


Breaking Habits

by Klayr_de_Gall



Category: Pacific Rim (Movies)
Genre: Chuck Lives, Chucks pov, Fluff and Crack, M/M, PPCD_Sweaters need a character-Tag, Raleigh is far to deep in, Sharing Clothes, chuck is a little adorable fuck, kind of, more like stealing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-15
Updated: 2017-02-15
Packaged: 2018-09-24 15:19:56
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,729
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9767843
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Klayr_de_Gall/pseuds/Klayr_de_Gall
Summary: If you need a new PPDC-sweater, you only have to ask.Chuck Hansen has his own solution for that problem.





	

**Author's Note:**

> It occurred to me yesterday that sometime in his life, Chuck was part of the Jaeger-Acadamy and probably had his own blue PPDC-Sweater. I had to write it to get the idea out of my head.  
> Not betaed, but I did my best!  
> If you find something terribly wrong, please let me know!

Chuck hadn’t really planed any of this. But the fact is, he hadn’t really planed anything past Operation Pitfall. So he tries to take everything coming his way this past-war-days in strides. It’s not his best quality.

Medical had let him go three weeks after the whole mess – credits to him for being an annoying little shit. Even more when bored out of his mind. Chuck had vehemently voted against using a wheelchair, so he was now hobbling about on crutches, Max a dutiful companion at his side. One would think that having to support most of your body mass with your arms would be a nice workout, but it actually wasn’t, just leaving him frustrated and sweaty and fucking cold.

It’s really not that cold in Hong Kong around that time of year, but the techs would have to be wizards to get the radiating chill out of such a massive stone and steel structure as a Shatterdome. Yeah, humankind had managed to build giant robots to battle fucking monstrous aliens, but god beholds, never ask about a well-working air-conditioning and heater system. Ever.

So, that’s really the reason why Chuck is sneaking into Raleigh's room after Lunch – or more like falls over the last step, cause his traitor of a left crutch catches on it – while the blonde wanker is out and about with Max to give his dog some walkies. 

After Pitfall, both men had agreed to some kind of truce, like the grown-ups there were supposed to be. It didn’t always work out, but having the American as an ally had its perks. Raleigh was really patience with his antics and weaponized crutches, fast enough to always get out of the way when the redhead felt so frustrated he wanted to hit someone with them. Only lashing back when Chuck verbally crashed through some boundaries. What seemed to happen few and fewer. They were both learning how to be around each other, to Makos sly amusement and Hercs long-suffering looks.

Why Raleigh would go through such a hassle was beyond the redheaded Aussie, not that he was complaining. The opposite really. He was planning to take full advantage of the older pilots’ tolerance.

Still muttering under his breath at his crutches, Chuck closed the door behind himself and made his halting way over to the drawer Becket kept his few clothes in. He didn’t really want to rummage through his personal belongings, but to his luck, the object of his interest is lying on the top of the bunch.

“Bonzer.”

He lifts the blue sweater and shakes it, unfolding the woven fabric in the progress.

The idea had accrued to him yesterday while watching a movie with Mako and Raleigh. All three Rangers had huddled up on Chuck’s bed, Becket in the middle. The co-pilots were kind of leaning together, while Max’s sleeping form lay between the two men. Petting his dog from time to time, whenever Chuck could be bothered to get his arm out from under the warm blanket, he had brushed the skin of his forearm more than once against Raleigh’s sweater-glad arm, marveling on the soft feel of the wool against his skin. _By accident_ of course.

That thing had to keep really warm. Shame he didn’t own one.

Still mulling on that while getting ready for bed a few hours later, the second shoe had finally dropped. _Of course_ Chuck had one of this sweaters. They were standard PPDC wear for cadets and every person that assigned to the Jaeger academy got at least one.

It had taken Chuck a while to figure out what he had done to the ancient reminder of his academy-days, finally finding the sweater deep on the ground of his duffle bag. After a short inspection, he found it well-worn but still in not-too-bad shape, faintly smelling of oil and un-use. But there was one problem, which showed itself only after he had put the sweater on.

Chuck had to chuckle at his own foolishness. Max had raised his head and huffed once, going back to sleep after sending him an unimpressed look.

He had been a lanky teen when he had enlisted in the academy, had only filled out and grown after already being assigned to Striker. So it shouldn’t be such a big disappointment to find that the old clothing was both to taut around the shoulders and way too short at his wrists and his waist. So much for that idea.

But in the morning, Chuck had still wanted one of that sweaters – one that fit, thank you very much. Asking around if they had still some lying around in storage had been too much of a hassle. And because he was a little shit, he was now here in Raleigh’s room.

It wasn’t stealing if he replaced the object with something similar, right?

Making sure to leave his old sweater exactly how he found Becket’s, Chuck retreats from the room. So he will hopefully get a laugh out of this, on top.

-  
-

Chuck isn’t paying a lot of mind to his surroundings while sitting in the mess hall, reading something on his tablet while dragging his fork through some mashed potatoes. He is comfortably huddled into his stolen sweater when suddenly a heavy weight drapes itself over his back and some chapped lips brush over his ear.

“You little fuck.”

The young man flinches so badly, he hits his good knee against the tabletop, sending his water-mug clattering over the wood. His heart is in his throat, mainly out of shock, but Raleigh’s rumbling voice so near is leaving his stomach in knots – and well, if that isn’t a surprise too.

“The fuck, Backet?”, he spits, with not as much bite behind his words as he would have liked.

Two arms come down on the table on both sides of him, and Chuck has to bend forward under the blonde’s pressure. To not end nose deep in his food, he pushes the tray away. Raleigh is wearing a standard blue cadet sweater, but the sleeves end a few inches above his wrists. Chuck can’t hold in the snicker at that and tries to smother it with his own arm. 

“Exactly that.”

The older pilot’s voice is deadpan. He probably had not heard the noise, but the manual shaking in Chuck’s shoulders had given his glee away anyway. The man behind him opens his mouth to say something, inhales and stops dead in his tracks.

“Shit. You smell like me.”

That statement sounds a bit breathless and without his contend, Chuck feels his ears starting to burn. _Fuck._

“Uh…”

For a moment he swears that he can feel hot lips at his neck, Raleigh inhaling deep a second time, then the extra weight over his back is gone. Leaving Chuck yet again cold, with a burning face. Only when he has composed himself enough, he turns around, catching a glimpse of the blonde’s retreating back and a silver of skin between the too short sweater and the cargo pants that are hanging way to lose on his narrow hips. Then the Man is gone.

Leaving everyone in the mess-hall to star at Chuck.

_Holy Shit!_

-  
-

Chuck finds Raleigh two hours later in the empty Jeager-bay, up on a working-platform overlocking Gibsy Dangers hanger. He has both his arms crossed on the Railing, now clad in one of his numerous sand-themed sweaters. It seems so wrong, not seeing any Jeagers standing here, like massive sentinels, watching the people working. Mako is planning to get a few old Jaegers that are not-to-lost causes, over here from the Miracle Bay for restoring, but funding has still a long way to go for that. Not that he is doubting for second that the Japanese woman won’t manage to score every cent she needs.

Getting up all the fucking stairs is starting to take a toll on his broken leg, so the effort has better be worth it.

The cheeky fucker looks up with a mischievous smile that has Chuck bristle the moment he sees it. But before he can bite out any cutting comment, Raleigh pushes back from the metallic rail, stepping into his personal space and shuts him up.

Turns out that kissing Chuck works like a Charm.

There are rough fingertips on his jaw, angling his face just the perfect way to deepen the kiss, and the younger man can only think _”Oh.”_ and grab onto Raleigh's shoulder for support.

Dimly aware that he is backed up against one of the metal pillars, and not caring one bit, Chuck sucks in a harsh breath.

“Becket, what-?”

Seemingly not what the blonde Ranger wanted to hear, if the bruising kiss that follows is any indication. A few tense seconds later, Chuck finally melts into the kiss. He lets Raleigh in without a struggle, simply because there is no need for dominance on both sides. This time when the older man draws back enough so part their lips, he stays silent. Their foreheads touch and their breath mingles, and Chuck just basks in the closeness and warmth he hadn’t been aware he craved. Raleigh’s hands sneak under the blue sweater to settle comfortably at his hips, fitting into that curve like they belonged here.

“Planning that for a while, Ray?”, he mocks, voice low.

“From the start.”

“The fuck? Really? You-“

Whatever he has to say ends in a groan. The tongue down his troth might be to thank for that. The kiss leaves Chuck breathless, his knees weak. 

“If I had known this would work so well, I would have kissed you a lot sooner.”

Chuck is trying for a scowl, but he is probably failing, feeling how he is popping both of his fucking dimples. Fuck this. No need to pretend he isn’t liking the washed-up has-been so close. His hands in Raleigh’s blonde hair are a dead giveaway.

“How did ya know? That it was mine?”, he asks instead.

“Next time you try to drop your old clothes off, make sure you don't have them labeled, C.Hansen.”

“Fu-“

This time he expects the kiss and accepts it readily. He doesn’t have to see the smile on Raleigh’s lips, the way he can feel it against his own.

Chuck is sure he is not in danger of feeling cold for the upcoming future.

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you liked it! feedback is much appreciated!  
> Come and gush with me about our two favourite idiots at [Tumblr](http://klayr-de-gall.tumblr.com/)!


End file.
